


Cheer Me On

by boulderuphill



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boulderuphill/pseuds/boulderuphill
Summary: ”Don’t thank me, Coach must be blind,” Achilles snarled with his mouth still twisted and a voice that was almost shaking. “I’m telling him I’m not playing. Not until those guys are off our fucking court.”-Patroclus and Achilles sulking after Lacrosse practice.





	Cheer Me On

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: idk anything about lacrosse im sorry :(
> 
> also posting this is terrifying lol

Droplets of water made their way down Achilles’ face, sprung from the condensation covering the bag of frozen peas he was currently pressing against his forehead. Like tears, they navigated along the bridge of his nose and settled in the hollow above his upper lip, lingering atop his disgruntled pout. ”I can’t believe they even allow a fucking brute like that to play,” he growled, perfect brown eyes clouded with annoyance, and Patroclus hummed in agreement.

Achilles’ dorm room was small, and while he himself was sat on the bed, Patroclus was slouched opposite him on the floor, leaning his head back against the wall and with his legs pulled up against his chest. They were still in their jerseys, helmets discarded on the floor alongside their shoes.

After having shared the court with the Troy University lacrosse team for several months, someone had finally arrived at the brilliant idea to run a joint training session. While the idea was nice, and the opportunity to practice against one of their more challenging opponents was undeniably valuable, allowing two rivalling teams to have a go at each other without the threat of suspension present had proven foolishly brave. The particular brute Achilles was referring to was Hector; Troy U’s senior star player who was at least as big as the two of them stacked on top of each other and, by the cruel hand of their coach, also Patroclus’ partner during the warm up. A man of few words, but, as Patroclus had learned the hard way, with an ego that easily rivalled Achilles’ in size. 

Patroclus carefully tapped the swollen skin below his left eye, flinching at the sharpness of the pain even under such a soft touch. ”Thanks for sticking up for me, though,” he said, with the memory of the end of Hectors’ stick surging towards his face still vivid in his mind. 

If Achilles’ hadn’t interfered, shoving Hector aside and taking a punch to the face in retribution, Patroclus figured he would probably have been stuck with something much worse than a black eye.  
”Don’t thank me, Coach must be blind,” Achilles snarled with his mouth still twisted and a voice that was almost shaking. “I’m telling him I’m not playing. Not until those guys are off our fucking court.” 

“Does that mean you’ll be joining me on the bench?” Patroclus laughed, ignoring how the motion made the pain more prominent, and how it probably wasn’t meant as a joke at all. Despite being only a first year, Achilles was their best player by far, playing as if he had been touched by the God of Lacrosse himself. And while Patroclus appreciated the sentiment, if Achilles sat out next week’s game, their chances of winning were pretty much nonexistent. ”You should wait. At least until after the game.”

Achilles laughed at that, short and breathy in a way that Patroclus recognized as a dead end. “No. The whole point is that it’s inconvenient.” This conversation was already over.  
The sound of frozen peas grinding against each other filled the small room as Achilles shifted, lying down onto his back and directing his attention towards the ceiling. It allowed him to let go of the bag, simply balancing it on his forehead.  
The palm of his hand was still wet from it, and when he dangled it leisurely off the edge of the bed, like he was resting on the edge of a pool on a warm summer day, the droplets found their way to his fingertips. One by one, they took turns letting go and falling onto the floor, creating a small puddle just inches from Patroclus’ toes. “Whatever,” Achilles said, seemingly to the ceiling and Patroclus both, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Whenever the state of the world did not fit him, he would sulk just like this, and Patroclus knew better than to argue. 

Meanwhile, Patroclus’ face was starting to numb; the pain that had been sprouting from his eye slowly subsiding. “I should probably get back home,” he said, the words barely having left his mouth before they were challenged by Achilles with his brow furrowed and eyes still latched to the ceiling.  
“No. You’re an adult, they can’t give you a curfew,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Patroclus was being ridiculous for even entertaining the thought of respecting the rules of the household that so kindly allowed him to rent a room during the semester. And then, “stay here instead.”  
When Achilles said those things, they never sounded like a plea. They sounded like divine advice that had been bestowed upon Patroclus by the good grace of the gods.  
“Yeah, alright.” For how long? It didn’t matter. Until the sun rose again, if it pleased him.

The silence that lingered didn’t feel heavy. It was as natural as the air around them, like pale smoke vibrating softly from the beat of the music playing from Achilles’ phone. When Patroclus had told him he liked old music, Achilles had scrolled for what seemed like ages, his slender thumb tapping the screen as his narrowed eyes scanned the track titles. In the end he had settled on Juicy, and Biggie’s familiar voice felt like the promise of something bigger, better, lurking just beyond their reach.

Maybe it was the song that gave Patroclus courage, maybe it was the pain that made it seem like the world had lost its edge. ”Do you feel like you belong here?,” he asked, and when they were spoken aloud he barely recognized the words as his own.  
”Of course,” Achilles answered without hesitation, not allowing himself as much as a breath before speaking. It made sense, because unlike Patroclus, Achilles belonged wherever he went. If he were to pack up his things the next day and leave, the team and the rest of the university would be left with an Achilles-shaped hole. Large and perfect, but impossible to fill. 

Was this love? The question was sudden and for a second Patroclus thought he might had spoken it out loud. But Achilles didn’t answer, merely allowing the silence between them to settle again. 

Love. 

It was a big word, but how could it be anything else? Just glancing at Achilles, lying on the bed with his eyes closed and a strands of his golden hair strewn across his face made Patroclus entire body ache. From the chills down his spine to the warmth in his chest, colliding and creating a burst that sprouted goosebumps across his every inch of his skin.

Maybe it didn’t matter what it was. Maybe the only thing that mattered was that if the day really came when Achilles gathered his belongings and left, Patroclus would have to go with him. After all, if he did not, the only thing he would be left with would be a deep, dark, gaping hole.


End file.
